


The Scars Don't Make You

by Captain_Kiri_Storm



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Awkward Kissing, Cybernetics, For a Friend, Heavy Petting, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Maul is shit with feelings, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-09
Updated: 2016-11-09
Packaged: 2018-08-29 23:50:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8510521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Kiri_Storm/pseuds/Captain_Kiri_Storm
Summary: Maul and Dogma try things





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yaodai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yaodai/gifts).



Dogma had gotten tired of the angst. Yes, he understood what Maul had gone through. He had been left to die by his Master. Said Master had also not treated him well and probably whored him out if the job required it. Maul had also been cut in half and had gone through a series of prosthetic legs. Some of those had messed him up. He had a bad back, yes. He had heavy scars, yes. He had more emotional baggage than most other beings knew what to do with. Also yes. But Dogma, who had _fucking been sexually abused by his General_ , had about had enough. He knew what he wanted. And if he decided to trust a certain half droid Sith with his heart... that was his choice.

He was an _adult_. He was entitled to making his own choices and he didn't like being treated like he was made out of glass, dammit.

Maul, damn him, either didn't _understand_ and was blissfully ignorant of the simmering pot of sexual tension who shared a ship with him, or was frankly bored of the whole thing. Or he'd never had any experience and the whole thing scared him. Dogma didn't know what he wanted. Maul-who-didn't-care or the weirdly erotic blushing-virgin-Sith-Lord. But he wanted more than the lead weight that pressed against his body. And gave him a boner every night. That damn Zabrak had no idea what he was doing... Or he did and he was just enjoying being irritating. Either one was possible. This was Maul they were talking about. A little bit of work had been done on his legs, though, giving him a restored lower body and bases for the new ones to be attached. But such work was slow going. You could only do it in pieces, not the whole thing at once.

Dogma was tired of putting up with a guy who had no idea what his soft touches and innocent looks did to him. His pants were tented most days, in fact.

He started with the kissing. Dogma started it slow, he didn't want to give Maul the wrong idea. Maul was his closest friend and confidant. He didn't want to create the impression that all he wanted was sex. And it wasn't just that. He wanted so much more. Maul was just hard to get that across too. He was also spooky. He didn't like the fact that Dogma wanted to hug him. Probably didn't like the contact, but still. He could learn how to be social. It might take him a long time, but still. Dogma had learned how to move on after his own abuse.

One day, Maul kissed back. It was slow and unsure, but it was there. And Dogma took the chance he had been given. He deepened the kiss, letting his hands dip down to explore the scarred plane of Maul's body. The hard muscle that spoke if a life of training and battle. The few tiny ounces of softness across his back that never quite went away. Dogma kissed the Zabrak's chin as his other hand found the bases of his horns. His horns were supposed to be incredibly sensitive. Dogma stroked along one and watched as the Zabrak shivered.

"I love you, you know." Dogma's voice was low and rough. He hoped it wouldn't scare the other man. Maul didn't edge away. Instead, he pressed into the soft touches. "You saved my life. I hope you know that. You saved my life."

Maul pushed his hands away and looked down. "You deserve better."

"Why?" Dogma pressed in close again. "Why?"

"My scars." Maul allowed his horned head to rest on Dogma's shoulders. He closed his eyes, putting his complete trust in the clone. He was willing to leave himself vulnerable...because he knew Dogma would protect him. He took one of Dogma's hands and put it where metal turned into flesh. "Because I'm half metal. I'm not...I'm not..."

"I think you're perfect." It was true.

"I'm not _whole_." Maul looked up, pain in his golden eyes. Dogma smiled softly and kissed the bridge of the other man's nose.

"I don't care." Clones were stubborn. They had to be, to survive. Dogma was no different. He nuzzled Maul and started stroking the places where horn met flesh. The Zabrak actually groaned at that, his eyes closed in pleasure. Dogma kept his kisses feather light, trying to gauge how much Maul liked this. The Zabrak was more than capable of stopping him if he so desired. "Tell me what you want, baby."

"I'm not...I'm not sure," Maul softly said. Dogma eased both of them back. Maul grasped around his waist, careful of the long talons he had. Another time, Dogma would have taken those hands and worshiped them like they deserved, but he wasn't going there. This was for Maul as much as it was for him. "I think...I think I want you?"

Dogma smiled when he felt something rub against his stomach. "I think you do too." He cupped the newly restored part of Maul's body through his pants. The Zabrak jerked forward a little bit. Dogma wondered what was going through his mind right now. "The scars don't make you, you crazy Zabrak. I'm not in love with your _body_. I'm in love with **you**. Your mind--you're much better at thinking things over than I am. The way you smile when you think I'm not looking. The fact that you trust me... _me_ , a **Jedi-killer** , enough to...to be vulnerable..."

"He's lucky you killed him," Maul murmured. "Because I would have torn him to _pieces_."

And Dogma didn't doubt it for a second. Instead, he sent Maul an image of both of them, sprawled out over his bed. The Zabrak's eyes widened. He moved to undress himself. He was a little clumsy, but Dogma helped him out. Maul watched him with soft golden eyes as Dogma undressed. It wasn't like they had never seen each other naked before, clones were used to not having clothes on around others, but it had never been sexual before. Maul's skin was bristling from the cold and his nipples were peaked, just begging for attention. A scar slashed through one of them, ruining what had once been perfection with an evil knot of scar tissue. Dogma decided that he didn't care and kissed it anyways.

The Zabrak pushed against him. Dogma took the hint and continued his actions, kissing each and every scar he could find. They all told a story. A violent life, full of fear and pain. Empty of love. The skin of a survivor. Not the skin of a man who had been allowed to fear, love, and laugh. He took his time, worshiping the powerful body in front of him. For his part, Maul lapped it up. Dogma knew he found a sensitive spot when taloned hands gripped his head and held him there. When he wanted to try the other, though, Maul shook his head. Dogma understood. He backed off and let it stay that way. Because he wasn't pushing the other man. Not now, not ever.

Never.

The kissing, though...the kissing lasted all night and was well worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just going to hide now...
> 
> You asked for it. I got bored. So here you go...


End file.
